


And They Were Roommates

by inthorantine



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Smut, F/M, Roommates, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:08:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26997211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inthorantine/pseuds/inthorantine
Summary: After the events of Endgame, the Avengers try to regain a semblance of normalcy.  Steve Rogers decides to move to a small town, get a regular job and a regular roommate...
Relationships: Steve Rogers & Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> This was absolutely based on a fever dream. I hope y'all enjoy! Also, sorry for the slow burn but it had to happen.
> 
> Chapter 2 will be coming out soon!
> 
> Warnings: mentions of death. some language. some hanky panky (MILD exhibitionism???!!?). Like neck kissing, hip straddling. But not between Steve and Reader... yet. Eventual warnings for possible PTSD and traumatic flashbacks. Eventual smut.

You groaned as you rolled over and blearily felt around for your phone on the nightstand; the display lit up so bright it made your eyes squint in pain. As they finally adjusted to the screen and you saw the numbers 2:43, you felt a familiar anger boil up inside you. That anger spiked when you heard a few thumps and more giggling from the living room. This was the third time this week Steve had brought some random drunk girl home from the bar where he worked. He was a popular guy because he was great at what he did, good-looking too you had to admit. And he was Captain America. He knew he had these qualities though and he flaunted them. For most people, his cockiness was a turn on; for you, it was the exact opposite and made most of the time rooming with him a miserable thing. You rolled over and squeezed your eyes shut, desperately willing sleep to come. Your mind trailed off to when you first met Steve. After the defeat of Thanos and the death of so many, Tony in particular, the Avengers had dispersed; they remained in touch but they all had decided to lead normal lives. As normal as possible anyway. 

Steve Rogers? Captain America? He decided to get a regular job at a regular bar in some regular town and move into some regular apartment. You knew he hurt. Who didn’t? Everyone had lost someone. You… You had lost your sister. She was the one who roomed with you before Steve. Some of her pictures were still on the mantle along with one of the Avengers together. You always smiled when you saw those pictures. The one with your sister was her in the snow, her skin flushed a bright red from the cold, her nose and eyes scrunched up as she laughed. That memory was so sweet, still fresh as if you had taken the picture yesterday. She had tripped and fallen face first in the snow. It was deep so it hadn’t hurt her. Instead she had flooded the air with her laughter. The two of you had ended up gasping for breath from hysterics. The one of the Avengers was similar although the focus of their laughter seemed to be Tony Stark’s frown. It wasn’t really a frown though, more as if he was trying to keep a smile off his face. Steve had never told you the story (he never really told you much about that time) but you guessed they were ribbing him for something. The love for each other was evident though. Steve seemed to be the most enthusiastic; his head was thrown back, eyes closed. He was holding his stomach and his golden hair was falling loosely in a wave. It made you smile every time you looked at those.

 **“Steeeevveee…”** A whine came from the living room. Your efforts to go back to sleep were a no-go. All those girls he brought home were so… Not Steve. It made your blood run hot.

 **“That’s it,”** you whispered angrily to no one in particular as you leaped from your bed and stalked down the hall. The was a furry rug running down the length of the floor; you weren’t exactly trying to move quietly. Still, you doubted Steve _wouldn’t_ hear you. At the last minute, something stopped you from rounding the corner. Really, what right did you have to tell him not to bring girls home? This was half his house. You had to be at work in _three hours_ now though, a thought that made you somewhat desperate. You took a deep breath and slowly padded out into the living area. 

There was Steve, sitting on the couch (the couch _you sat on too sometimes for Christ’s sake_ ). The girl was straddling his lap, her blonde curls loose around her shoulders. Her mini skirt was hiked up to her hips. His arms were at her back and he was kissing her neck; her hands were in his hair and she let out a small moan. You stood frozen in place.

They were completely absorbed in each other, completely oblivious to you standing there gawking. It was an impressive sight to see Steve in action if you were being _completely honest with yourself_. Then he opened his eyes. You’d looked him in the face before, knew he had pretty blues but this… This was different. They were stunning, intense. And focused on you as the girl he was holding let her head fall back on a sigh. He didn’t stop, just watched you watching him. It made the muscles in your stomach clench. What the hell? You stood straight, shook your head in an attempt to make the haziness leave your brain and cleared your throat. She jumped in his arms but didn’t make any move to get off his lap. She did a half turn to see who was there; you crossed your arms and tapped your foot.

 **“Look, I don’t wanna be rude and I don’t know if Steve told you but he doesn’t live alone. And I gotta get up for work in the morning. I mean, can you guys just be a _little quieter_ , Steve?”** You directed your gaze to him. He watched you lazily but… Your cheeks flushed hot when he _kept_ watching you. _Shit…_ **“That’s all I need…”** You trailed off awkwardly, frustrated with yourself. He finally looked away and back at her face.

 **“Gosh, doll, looks like our fun’s over. Maybe some other time?”** He smirked, squeezing her hips. He continued smirking as she stared at him in disbelief.

 ** _“Look,”_** she finally said, mirroring your statement with sarcasm, **“I don’t wanna be rude but I don’t know who this bitch thinks she is—”** Your eyes widened as Steve didn’t even let her finish her sentence as he stood up abruptly, letting her fall indignantly to the cushion next to him.

 ** _“That bitch,”_** he said quietly, **“pays half the rent. She’s my roommate. And I won’t have anyone disrespecting her.”** Now it was her turn to widen her eyes; her mouth gaped open. Steve stood, imposing, one hand in the pocket of his blue jeans, the other arm extended to the door. The girl stood quickly and grabbed her bag from the coffee table. The door slammed as she left. You crossed your arms and tried to look everywhere but at Steve who still faced away from you.

 **“Sorry,”** you mumbled. **“I didn’t mean for that to happen. I just… I have to be there at, like, five—”**

 **“It’s fine.”** His shoulders and back flexed; you gulped when he turned around and studied your face. **“She shouldn’t have said that.”** _God those blue eyes._ He took a step forward and another when you didn’t back away. Finally, he grinned. **“I think you made her jealous. I mean, who wouldn’t be jealous of you? You get to see _America’s ass_ in person every day.” You rolled your eyes. Steve having access to the internet was all at once the worst and best thing. He was fascinated by memes and when it came to memes of himself… well, he could make you sit for _hours_ showing you memes. **“Play hooky with me tomorrow, let me make up for how she treated you.”** You crossed your arms again and pursed your lips, shook your head.**

****

****

**“No-can-do, Steve. I’m one of the openers. I wouldn’t do that on such short notice.”**

**“I figured as much. I’ve never seen you call out. I mean, except that one time you were puking your guts out.”** Steve smirked, you shuddered.

 **“Ugh, that was awful. I was so sick! Thank god you didn’t bring anyone here those nights.”** You returned the smirk as Steve gave you an expression of mock surprise, throwing his hands up in surrender.

**“I don’t bring _that_ many girls home, okay? Besides, I have to drown out the bad memories somewhere.” **There was an uncomfortable moment of silence.****

********

********

**“Steve—"**

**“ _Plus_ , you were so miserable. I didn’t want to bother you. I tried to stay scarce those days.”** He’d crossed his arms again, and you had to force yourself to keep your eyes on his face instead of how good he looked in that worn white t-shirt of his. His words jarred a memory in you though from the last time you remembered being that sick.

_You were fifteen. Your mom had to work the night shift at the hospital. She wasn’t particularly caring anyway. Y/Sister’s name was the one who found you in the bathroom in the middle of the night, laying on the cold tile floor holding your stomach. She had rubbed your back and held your hair back from your face and made sure you drank little bits of water to wash away the gross aftertaste._

__

__

_**“Ssshh,”** she had whispered. **“It’s all right, you’re okay.”** She had helped you back to bed, tucked you in with a bucket on the floor. She had stayed there all night, waiting it out with you. It was the best feeling just knowing someone was there. She was always there for you, even when no one else was…_

Tears sprang unbidden to your eyes and you bit your lip. _Shit. Shit shit shit._

**“I, uh, I gotta go to bed, okay? Um, sorry about tonight. Didn’t mean for it to go that way,”** you said again. That quick he closed the space between you; he was so close you could smell the subtle aroma of his cologne, see the way his eyes searched yours. He reached up and brushed a thumb across your cheek, wiping away a tear you hadn’t even noticed falling.

“ _Please_ don’t apologize. Can I take you out after you get off?” You looked up at him (you definitely had to look _up_ ) and studied his face. He looked so tired. His eyes looked sad. How had you never noticed before? Maybe it was time you paid attention. A small nod.

“Yeah,” you whispered, even though you didn’t even know why you had to whisper. “I get off at 1. Should I meet you?” Steve smiled then. _Golden boy. Apollo. The sun._

 **“Nah, I got this. I’ll pick you up.”** Was he always a gentleman like this? A quick hitch of your breath as he leaned forward and spoke close to your ear **“Good night, Y/N.”** He stood up and slowly brushed past you heading to the room at the other side of the hall where he saluted you with a grin as he went in and closed his door. He _knew_. He knew the effect he suddenly was having on you and he was _loving it_. If you were being honest, you didn’t mind that you were finally acknowledging it.

And now, somehow, you were going to hang out with Steve Rogers tomorrow. You slapped a hand over your mouth to stifle your disbelieving giggle. It felt good.


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the events of Endgame, the Avengers try to regain a semblance of normalcy. Steve Rogers decides to move to a small town, get a regular job and a regular roommate...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends! As promised, Chapter 2 of And They Were Roommates is here. I had a ton of help from a friend who went above and beyond proofreading and editing with me so I hope y'all like it. It was so much fun writing this chapter, especially since I got the inspiration to somehow double the word count?! My essays could never. Thanks for reading!
> 
> Warnings: mentions of alcohol. aftermath of a break-in. mentions of blood (small amount!). suggestiveness. eventual warnings for traumatic flashbacks and ptsd. eventual warnings for smut.

The physical act of getting out of bed two hours later was nearly impossible. You could care less if you fell into a hole and never came back out. Even the sun rising, soft and golden over the skyline, and the smell of freshly ground coffee beans serenading your senses didn’t really improve your mood. 

“Not to be rude, but you look like death warmed over.” The second opening barista, Vanessa, almost never minced words. This morning was no exception. You shot her a playful glare as you followed her to the back, throwing your bag and jean jacket into your locker as she placed another tray of crescents in the oven. “Long night?” The question was followed by her handing you an iced coffee with heavy cream, just the way you liked it.

“How’d you guess?” Your question and expression dripped with sarcasm. “Steve--”

“Steve. Steve! If I hear this story I know I’m going to feel like kicking his ass.” 

You gathered your hair into a ponytail and sighed, taking another long sip of your drink. At 6:30, customers were starting to file in, but the early birds were sporadic; it wouldn’t get really busy until about 9 or so. Your face lit up as you greeted the older woman who had walked up to the counter, and she frowned as she heard the tail end of Vanessa’s sentence. After making her latte with no foam, you proceeded to set up extra pastries in the display case and wipe down the countertops.

“Look. He pays half the rent, and we never specified we couldn’t bring people to the house. But sometimes, he decides that 2 AM is a good time to bring home… _guests_.” You didn’t need to bring other people down to get your point across. But... there was an underlying feeling there you didn’t want to acknowledge. Sure, these girls were gorgeous, but they seemed so… fake. Maybe they didn’t seem fake, so much as not right for Steve. Vanessa saw the _excuse me_ expression manifest on your face as you warred with the thought. You proceeded to tell her how the rest of the young woman’s visit had gone. “...And now he’s picking me up when I get off.” You decided to leave out the part where you walked in and he had _watched you watch him_. The part where your heart had stuttered so hard in your chest you _knew_ the super soldier could hear it. The part where his mouth so close to your ear had sent a shiver tripping down your spine. 

“Earth. To. Y/n.” Vanessa’s mouth was agape as she waved her hand in front of your face. “Girl, where the _hell_ did you go just then? Is there something you’re not telling me? I mean, what could be better than finding out that _Captain America_ is taking my favorite coworker on a date?!”

“It’s not a da--”

“Ah! Ah! Don’t interrupt me! What could be better than finding that out? You’ve despised his cocky attitude. He brings random girls home all the time. It’s not very considerate. He knows he’s too beautiful for his own good and he _shows_ it. Yet, despite being woken up like two hours before you had to get ready for work, you’ve gotten surprisingly peppy the longer you’ve been here. Could it be… No.” Vanessa gasped as a huge shit-eating grin plastered itself on her face. You eyed her warily while the sudden feeling of being _totally exposed_ washed over you. “Could it be you _like him_?” You shook your head vigorously. _Nope. No way._

“Um, _no_? You just gave me a bullet list of all the things to _dislike_. I’m sure he was different… before… We all were. He is a hero. Always will be. But he’s at a different point in his life now. I haven’t seen the good guy side of him in person.” Your mind skipped over his smile in the photo on the mantle. “He’s a cad!” You said in your best British accent. Vanessa glared at you in playful disbelief. 

“Sure. Okay. I’ll play along. Do you even know where you’re going? _Do you have anything to change into?_ ” She emphasized the last question like it was the most important thing in the world. You shrugged your shoulders. In all honesty, the only thing you could focus on that morning was to throw some makeup staples in your bag as you had stumbled out the door. She closed her eyes and let out a quiet sigh. “It’s all good. I’ve got something. I always keep a dress in my car, just in case.”

“Vanessa, you’re too much,” you giggled. “I don’t really wear dresses. He sees me like this every day. It’s not a date. He’s taking me out as an apology. If he can’t deal with me in jeans and a t-shirt, that’s his problem, not mine.”

“You’re with me for another six hours, and I can be _very_ convincing.”

Sure enough, 12:45 rolled around--the two mid-shifters taking over for you two having already clocked in--and Vanessa was pushing you into the employee bathroom to change. You applied some mascara, tinted chapstick, and slipped into the dress. The white cotton felt like heaven, and the v-neck did _everything_ for your curves. You made a mental note to attempt to get something for her that could pay her back. After you let your hair down from the ponytail that was starting to give you a slight headache, you stepped out and grabbed your bag. When you came around front, Vanessa stopped dead in her tracks. 

“Ay, Dios mio! You’re gonna make me regret wearing that dress after you, ‘cause I know it won’t look that good on me.” She hooked her arm in yours as the two of you meandered to the front of the coffee shop. “Are you nervous?” 

You turned your head sharply in her direction. _Were you nervous?_

“No, why would I be?” 

Vanessa rolled her eyes. “I am still 100 percent convinced this is a date. _I_ would be nervous. What time is it?” You glanced at your phone screen. The numbers read 1:06. A slight flutter of uncertainty pinged around your chest. That first thought of _this is stupid… I’m stupid._ You shook your head to clear it.

“Let’s go outside and wait. It’s so pretty out today!” It was. There were exactly five tables and chairs outside, and luckily, the one that sat under the dogwood tree was free. It was tucked farther in the back, closer to the building, with an unobstructed view of the street. These factors all made for good people watching. One considerably long conversation later, which had been punctuated by periodic glances at your phone under the guise of checking the time, Vanessa finally hopped up from her seat, planting her hands firmly on her hips as she leveled a stern look at you.

“Uh-uh, we’re not doing this. He proved whatever point needed to be proved. You’ve got better things to do with your time. There’s a new little Mexican-Korean fusion place down the street that I’ve been _dying_ to try. We could drive there faster than you can walk home!” She held her hand out to you, and amidst the usual ‘I’m sure something came up’ excuses you were making for him (making excuses for him--what even _was that_ thought process), you decided to take her lead on things. It wasn’t exactly like you were surprised but it still felt like a rock had been dropped in the pit of your stomach. The afternoon sun was now beating down on the two of you, and an air-conditioned building sounded _so_ good.

“I do have to go home at some point though,” you intoned on a sigh. “It’s gonna be awkward. Probably. Maybe I’ll get lucky and he’ll act like nothing happened.” 

Vanessa scoffed. “Unlikely, but some good food and a couple of margaritas will be sure to help that anxiety float away.” 

“Nessa! Day drinking? I’m simply _scandalized_.” But once again, Vanessa was right, and after a Korean Lime Margarita and some excellent Kimchi street tacos, you were in high spirits and ready to take on whatever awaited you back at the house. Vanessa offered to give you a ride home, but you opted for the fresh air and the walk since you were about twenty minutes away. It would give you time to clear your head.

The sun was still out in full force, but a lively breeze had come about so that by the time you turned off of Main Street onto Pine Street, you felt as if you were walking on clouds. Steve had better things to do with his time than to make sure your feelings weren’t hurt. You were a grown woman and he had apologized last night. And if he had been rude today by not shooting you a text letting you know he couldn’t make it… well, it wasn’t unexpected coming from the Steve you knew. 

You were so engrossed in giving yourself a pep talk that you got up to your front door, key in hand, without noticing that the door was in fact already open. Immediately the hairs went up on your neck. Something was off. Your breathing came out a little bit fast and shallow. _Where was Steve?_ It was the first thought you could latch on to. He wouldn’t be home. Right? If somebody had broken in he would have made fast work of them. Maybe you were being silly. Should you call out for him? Should you even go inside? 

You stood frozen on the doorstep, keys in hand as a makeshift weapon, until you heard noise coming from inside. It sounded like someone was sweeping up broken glass. A sigh of relief escaped your lungs when you finally stepped over the threshold and made your way past the living room and into the kitchen. There was Steve, the door to the backyard open and letting in the breeze. The first thing to catch your eye was the cabinet door hanging on one hinge. The second was _all the broken glass_. There was so much of it, probably from the dishes that had fallen out of the broken cabinet. Steve was sweeping it into the dustpan. The third thing you noticed was when he finally realized you were there, and he turned to you on a dime. You took in his face; it was flushed, and a nasty open gash was slowly bleeding down the left side of his face.

Time stopped for a moment as the two of you watched each other. The light coming through the west-facing kitchen window was golden, slanting in such a way that it hit Steve’s hair just right, setting it alight. At first, his expression was uncertain. Then his eyes widened, almost imperceptibly, as he realized what he had missed. He turned and threw the debris into the trash can he had dragged to the middle of the floor. His movements were slow, deliberate. You set your bag on the hook next to the open door and walked over to the sink, grabbing a cloth and wetting it down. 

“What happened?” You heard him take a deep breath behind you. “Steve, sit down. Let’s take care of that cut.” It was surprising that he did as he was told, the second-hand oak chair creaking under the size of him. You moved slowly as you walked towards him, sensing that whatever had happened was a big deal; the normally-outspoken super soldier seemed at a loss for words. 

When he was sitting, it gave you the once-in-a-lifetime chance to be looking down at him. He was still tall, only a few inches shorter in this position, but it was a different perspective nonetheless. The clean washcloth you had wet down felt cool in your hands. The sensation was the only thing keeping you grounded when you stopped in front of him, stepping between his knees to get a closer look at the wound. You bit your lip as you concentrated, softening the dabbing motions when Steve hissed at the contact.

“This should be healing, shouldn’t it?” Your voice was much quieter than you intended it to be. “Do we need to contact S.H.I.E.L.D?” He shook his head and closed his eyes; you had full opportunity to study his face. The beard had been a nice addition, you thought absently. His eyelashes were fanned out across his cheeks. Who had eyelashes that long? It was a bit ridiculous. His lips were pursed and quite involuntarily you wondered what it would be like to kiss them. A lock of hair had fallen into his face, and as you brushed it back, carding your fingers through the dark golden crown, his hands flew up to grasp your hips.

The motion startled you, but you were rooted to the spot. His hands were _big_ , and the gentle motion of his thumbs made your breathing hitch. This was dangerous territory that definitely felt like it was coming out of nowhere. You weren’t equipped to deal with something like this. The heart behind your ribcage was thundering, thumping so hard you were sure it was going to give you away, betray you, and the emotions suddenly washing over you.

“I don’t need to contact them. Just a break-in that I wasn’t expecting. I chased him off. Normal life’s left me soft,” he finally gritted out in a quiet baritone. His hands were still splayed on your hips, and it took everything in you not to lean into the touch. “Guess I have to figure out some other way to say sorry.” You watched as his eyes fluttered open and a sheepish grin painted itself across his face. Was there an invitation there? 

A shaky sigh escaped your mouth as you reluctantly extracted your hands from his hair and stepped back; you rolled your eyes, and just like that the old magic of the moment was broken. Still, something skipped in the air around you.

“You hardly have to worry about missing today when you were fighting an intruder, Steve. Don’t be ridiculous. Whaddya say to just whipping something up here and watching a movie? That’s my kind of apology anyway.” You dropped the cloth in the sink and turned around, crossing your arms and leaning back to look at him again. The physical distance had allowed the fog in your brain to clear just a little bit, until you saw the way he was watching you. Lazy, but focused at the same time. “What?” Your skin felt warm under his gaze.

“Nothing. You just look nice is all. Was that dress for me?” If anyone had looked at you right now, you were sure you would have looked like a deer in headlights. You weren’t sure whether to answer or not. His voice had gone all low, and now he was standing, making his way over to you with sure, slow steps. The floor creaked slightly under his weight. Oh, definitely _not_ good. Steve reached forward once more, correcting the strap that had fallen down your shoulder. Goosebumps raced over your flesh. “I like the idea of staying here better too,” he rumbled. You pursed your lips and nodded, taking another huge breath.

“All right then. Um, I guess we should fix that cabinet door first?” Steve’s eyes searched yours for a moment before smiling and ducking his head.

“Yeah, I’ll grab the toolbox from the garage. I’ll take care of that if you can finish cleaning the mess off the counter?” Another nod.

“I’ll check the fridge too, I’m pretty sure we have all the ingredients for pizza.” You took a moment to watch his face; his eyes were distant. It took everything in you to tamp down the urge to reach out and touch him. “Steve, are you good?” 

He stuck both thumbs in the air as he headed past you to the garage. Something in the set of his shoulders and the way he quickly avoided your gaze said otherwise, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. The idea that this had just been a normal break-in seemed unlikely. Even if Steve hadn’t been interacting with S.H.I.E.L.D outside of occasional check-ins, there was no way Steve would have been caught off guard by a normal human being. Still, it didn’t feel like the right time to question him about it.

The two of you made quick work of the mess. After a small disagreement on whether pineapple actually belongs on pizza, with a compromise of half with pineapple, half without, the two of you finally settled on the couch to watch the movie. It was some secret agent rom-com you’d seen a few times before, but that always fit the bill for a chill night at the house. Steve, on the other hand, had not seen it and felt obligated to point out all the flaws in the action scenes. It made you smirk and elbow him more than once. After a while, though, you began to feel the tell-tale signs of sleep, your eyes drooping and your breath slowing. 

It didn’t take him very long to notice.“Wanna head to bed, sleepyhead?” 

You turned to him, your gaze briefly unfocused, and poked his arm.“I wouldn’t be _tired_ at only _eight pm_ if I hadn’t been woken up _two hours_ before my _four am_ alarm,” you replied with a smirk. Despite yourself, however, a yawn escaped your mouth. “I’ll take care of the dishes, it will help me wake up enough to finish the movie. You need to take a shower or anything after fighting the big bad wolf?” 

Steve crossed his arms and let out a snort. You nudged his arm again with your elbow. “All jokes aside, thanks for keeping our house safe.” He stilled next to you but finally nodded.

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re welcome. Uh, yeah, I’ll go take a shower. You sure you don’t want any help?” _Again, had he always been this nice?_

“You’re fine. Go on.” If you had been able to read his mind, you would have known that to hear you say “our house” lit a fire in his veins. You wandered into the kitchen, noting how every detail seemed in focus; the night sounds coming in the open window, the smells of the breeze, the way the tile felt cool under your bare feet. The air felt charged with… what? You noted the gradual switch in your brain. Just this morning, you had been able to rattle off in your head all the reasons you hated living with Steve. You had even contemplated looking for someone else to room with. And now… now, after a brief conversation and some wound care, you really couldn’t figure out why you had decided to hate him. Hate was a pretty strong word. 

Two plates and some intense daydreaming later, you wandered back into the living room just as Steve came back down the hallway, adjusting his shirt over the lower half of his stomach.

You were glad the lighting was low, because you were sure he would have seen the flush creep into your cheeks at the glimpse of bare skin across his abdomen. Absolutely ridiculous. Finish the movie. Go to bed. It was very simple. Or better yet, fake a headache? Could Captain America tell when someone was lying? Would you be surprised if he could? No. You sneaked a sideways glance at him as you sat down again. He smelled fresh and like a hint of Old Spice. His hair was combed back but still wet; little water droplets clung to the ends. Without a second thought, you reached out and turned his face to look at you.

“How’s that cut,” you murmured, suddenly quiet. The wound that just hours before had looked like it would need stitches now looked like a thin pink line. Oh god, his face was so close. You could close the space easily. There, there was that look again. Steve was not one to shy away from looking someone in the eyes, and every time he had looked at you in the last twenty-four hours had left you feeling weak and heavy, but in the best sort of way. Your phone buzzed from its place on the coffee table in front of you, the name “VANESSA” emblazoned on the front. You released a breath you hadn’t released you were holding and snatched the phone up. Steve cleared his throat and sat back.

“Hey, Nessa, what’s up?” What was up was that the opener for tomorrow morning had called out, and you were the most reliable on short notice. You agreed to cover the shift and let out a groan of disappointment when she told you she was working the night shift, so you wouldn’t even get to see her. Steve guessed what had happened from the conversation he could hear on his end (actually, he could easily hear _both_ ends of the conversation, but that point was moot) so he locked up while you were getting last minute details.

“It’s all good,” he laughed when you tried to apologize. “We can finish the movie some other time. I had fun tonight. Oh, and, uh, thanks for the medical care.” He had shoved his hands in his sweatpants pockets and was rocking back on his heels. He looked every bit like someone who was definitely planning out his next move. He looked _nervous_ , and somehow you couldn’t wrap your brain around that.

“Was the least I could do. I’ll see ya tomorrow?” Steve ducked his head with a smile. A smile that could stop traffic. A smile that had been burned into the mind of every US citizen as the poster boy for America. But to you, it was a smile that was warm. Familiar. And somehow now a smile that was starting to whisper _home_. 

“Yeah, see you tomorrow.” Was there a promise there? You kept the shower water cold that night, trying to focus on something other than Steve Rogers.


End file.
